


Replacement

by skulls_and_stripes



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Omega Ruby & Alpha Sapphire | Pokemon Omega Ruby & Alpha Sapphire Versions
Genre: Autism, Autism Spectrum, Nonbinary Character, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-18 16:54:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21580912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skulls_and_stripes/pseuds/skulls_and_stripes
Summary: When there's a deafening bang and a blinding light coming from the sea near his home, he's fine. When a God he never thought was real is in his partner's city creating a storm that threatens to drown the world, he's fine. When a bad fall sends him into the water and he nearly drowns, he's fine.But a lost piece of metal? No, that's what sends him over the edge.Or: the one where comfort objects are a serious thing.
Relationships: Mikuri | Wallace/Tsuwabuki Daigo | Steven Stone
Kudos: 45





	Replacement

**Author's Note:**

> its been ages since ive written originshipping or pokemon in general so bear with me here
> 
> anyway steven is autistic and wallace is nonbinary and i will fite you

It’s barely even allowed, honestly. The town’s mere existence seems to be against all sorts of safety rules, but the fact that it’s been unchanging for so long makes it invulnerable to criticism. No matter how much the Donphan in the room is pointed out, the elders of the town refuse to update the infrastructure. No amount of persuasion will help; it’s like there’s a brick wall around the town, preventing anything made less than a century ago from getting in.

This metaphorical brick wall is probably the sturdiest architecture in the entirety of Pacifidlog Town, and it does not even exist.

Unsurprisingly, for a town made entirely of wooden houses floating on the surface of the ocean, with maybe one building that has electricity and not particularly reliable electricity at that, the population is rapidly decreasing as the people of the Hoenn region collectively discover that there are much better options.

Unfortunately for the Elite trainers of the Hoenn League, the population of Pacifidlog is not decreasing rapidly enough, and there are still a few hundred people living there.

This is unfortunate because, being located in the middle of the ocean and with no ground higher than sea level, it is easily the town in Hoenn that is most likely to be in danger in a flood. For the same reason, it is easily the town in Hoenn that is the least likely to have any sort of safe place to evacuate to in the event of a flood.

Evacuating the citizens of the small town to the neighbouring areas of Sootopolis, Mossdeep, Dewford, or Ever Grande is basically an annual occurrence, since the slightest winds and storm threaten to capsize the entire city. Usually, the Weather Institute can detect a bad storm a few days in advance at least, so that the most vulnerable citizens can be safely on dry land before the rain even starts.

Storms are hard to predict.

People are harder.

And a cult of horrifically misguided environmental activists unleashing the power of Kyogre on the world?

Well, that’s pretty much impossible to predict.

Making matters worse is the fact that the centre of all the chaos, Sootopolis City, is dangerously close to Pacifidlog, meaning that the storms are worse than ever before. The weather makes air or sea travel unsafe except by the strongest and most obedient Pokemon, so that slows the evacuation.

So, really, it’s no wonder that once they can find the one person in the town whose PokeNav Plus was charged recently with the one charging port in the town, they request assistance from the best of the best.

***

On one hand, these citizens need all the help they can get.

On the other hand, the rain was making it cold enough without the unnecessary Ice-types floating around.

Steven Stone, Champion of the Hoenn region, surveys the scene in front of him. Drake is loading people onto his Salamence; Glacia is standing unsteadily atop a wooden house, directing her Pokemon as a combined Ice Beam manages to make a path out of the ocean. Phoebe and Sidney are back in Ever Grande, waiting for updates on the situation, since their Pokemon can’t be of much assistance.

Steven nervously fingers the stickpin attached to his jacket and frowns. Glacia’s method of creating an ice path is a quick one, yes, but … how powerful are her Pokemon, exactly? Can they possibly make a path that will withstand the weight of dozens of panicked citizens and their Pokemon?

Uncertainly, he directs his Metagross to hover toward the ice path, stopping only at the building Glacia is on to allow her to ride with him. From this distance, hopefully, he’ll be able to step in quickly if anything goes wrong, and Drake’s Salamence is on standby anyway. He hopes he can have faith in Glacia’s Pokemon.

Glacia is still carefully directing her Pokemon through a series of complicated hand gestures and commands. “Sealeo, come a bit closer. Glalie, aim a bit higher, you’re freezing too far underwater.”

Glalie does so, turning a few degrees upward. It perhaps overshoots its target a little.

The Ice Beam only nicks its leg and Metagross only falters for a second, but that’s all it takes for Steven to lose his balance, and before he knows what’s happened he’s underwater. It’s a few seconds of desperate thrashing before his arms find their way around the long neck of a concerned Salamence, and with the help of Drake’s signature Pokemon he resurfaces, shaking and dripping and gasping for air.

He never was very good with water, honestly.

But right now, whether he’s good with water or not, he’s got a town to help evacuate and there’s no time to dwell.

“You okay?” asks Drake, as Steven climbs back onto his Metagross.

“I’m fine,” he pants.

He has no idea how wrong he is.

***

When Pacifidlog is safe, he’s all too eager to take the trip back to Sootopolis. He was never a big fan of the city -- again, not good with water -- and the weather is worse so close to the centre of the chaos, but he’s glad to be reunited with his partner.

You can tell the weather is bad because, looking at them side by side, they’re around equally soaked; you wouldn’t be able to tell that one of them almost drowned and the other one was just in the rain for a few hours.

“Update?”

Wallace runs a hand through messy turquoise hair, soaking wet from the rain. “There’s a teenager who thinks she’s going into the Cave of Origin to catch Kyogre.”

Steven’s eyes widen. “That sounds completely ridiculous. As the leaders of the region, we have a duty to protect the children, and it would be irresponsible of us to send a young girl on such a dangerous mission! What is this girl’s name?”

“May.”

Steven tilts his head. “May?”

“May Sapphire.”

“...The one with the red and white bow in her hair?”

“Yes, that’s the girl. Do you know her?”

Steven, as a matter of fact, does. 

“Oh, well, that’s okay then. Send her in.”

Wallace raises an eyebrow.

“Trust me, she’s … a gifted child.” She saved Latias from Team Aqua. “And she already has one Legendary Pokemon, not to mention Mega Evolution.”

At the mention of the special ability that he shares with May, he instinctively runs his hand over the fabric of his jacket, and frowns. There’s no smooth metal, no glittering stone, no sharp point. ...Where is it?

For a second, he almost panics. The world is crashing around him in what might be the worst natural disaster in Hoennian history, and the thing that makes him panic is a stickpin. But he pushes the matter out of his mind. He has to help guide May into the Cave of Origin, and then survey how bad the damage is after the storm ends, and then help pay for reparations. There is absolutely no way that after May comes out of that cave, he will have the time and the energy to be panicking over a rock.

***

His reluctance to participate in the natural post-victory celebrations aren’t lost on them, but they assume that when he makes up a weak excuse for why he has to get back to Mossdeep immediately, it’s just that he needs some time to recharge after the events of the day.

They can’t blame him, honestly. They’re more extroverted than he is, and thus find the celebrations to be replenishing rather than tiring, but they’re still exhausted and they still look forward to rest. They’re safe now, yes, but they just witnessed the city they grew up in almost drown under the weight of Kyogre’s rain. There were a few hours there when they were sure it was all over … nobody was badly injured and it’s okay now, yes, but by Rayquaza, their therapist is going to have a field day with this one.

When Steven rushes to Mossdeep as soon as the weather allows for such a trip, they’re quick to assume he’s just going there to rest. So when he returns to Sootopolis looking even more anxious than before, well, can you blame them for being surprised?

At some point after the storm ended, someone took an unusually large amount of food to the island in the centre of Sootopolis and the city’s population collectively decided to celebrate their safety outside the Gym. So when they catch sight of a restless Skarmory and an equally anxious Champion, it’s not hard to find a suitable place.

“Steven, the Gym,” they mumble, taking his hand. They wait a second to see his reaction to the touch, and when he does not pull away or protest, they pull him toward the building and unlock the door. 

He quickly releases his grip on their hand and pulls away, and when he walks inside he’s almost stomping. They follow him and gently press the door shut behind them, closed to allow them some privacy but unlocked in case of an emergency that requires them to intervene with the celebrations outside.

“Steven, are you okay?” they ask, and apparently it’s the worst possible question they could have chosen.

Whether it’s the sudden pressure to explain what the problem is, or if he was on the verge of a breakdown anyway and the only difference is that he’s not being forced to hold himself together, it’s barely a second after the words are spoken before he backs against the inner walls of the Gym like a cornered prey animal. He seems genuinely shocked to find that there is a wall behind him.

His breathing gets increasingly fast as he glances around the room in a panic, until he seems to be gasping for air, and Wallace grows concerned, taking several steps toward him. They place a hand on his shoulder. “Steven, breathe, you’re panicking. Deep breaths.”

Steven closes his eyes, leans his head back against the wall, and takes several deep breaths before he opens his eyes again. “Sorry,” he mumbles weakly. “I … I couldn’t calm myself down, so I…”

“You don’t need to apologise.” They brush a lock of silver hair out of his face and frown at how wet it is. Their hair is still dripping -- all over the floor right now, as a matter of fact -- but they at least had a chance to duck into their house and change their clothes after the rain stopped. Steven is wearing the same outfit he had when he came back from Pacifidlog, and he’s still soaking and shivering. “You’re soaking wet, don’t you want to change?

He stubbornly shakes his head, fidgeting with the metal cuffs on the ends of his jacket sleeves.

“Are you sure? You look cold.”

“Of course I’m cold. This Gym has ice everywhere.” He finally moves from his place backed against the wall and starts anxiously pacing around the room. He puts his hands in the pockets of his jackets, then frowns deeply and takes them out.

“I can turn the air conditioning down, if you want?”

He shakes his head.

“Well, what’s wrong?”

Steven, who had still been pacing furiously, stops dead in his tracks. “I…” They watch him with growing concern. “You’re going to think this is ridiculous.”

“Steven, I woke up this morning to find that a cult of horrifically misguided environmental activists had unleashed Kyogre’s wrath onto my city, and then before we could all be drowned we were saved by a twelve-year-old girl. My mind is rather open today.”

“Exactly!” exclaims Steven, and he quickly resumes his pacing. “There are people out there with actual problems! For crying out loud, I almost drowned today --” he kicks the wall for emphasis and ignores Wallace’s concerned frown -- “and that didn’t phase me, but now I’m freaking out over the silliest thing!”

“...You almost drowned today?”

“I’m fine now,” he insists, continuing to pace. His breathing speeds back up. Wallace raises an eyebrow.

“Are you sure? Because you really don’t look fine.” That, perhaps, explains it. Whatever he’s supposedly being “ridiculous” about, he’s probably just been through a great trauma and just isn’t realising that that’s the cause of his sudden meltdown.

“I’m fine,” he repeats. Pauses. “I mean, I’m not fine, but I’m fine from the almost drowning, nothing happened, Drake’s Salamence got me out in a few seconds --”

He stops dead in his tracks, eyes slowly widening, and suddenly he grins.

“Wallace, we have to go to Pacifidlog right now.”

“...Steven, are you thinking clearly?”

His face falls at their objection, and they rush to explain themself. “The citizens of Pacifidlog are still getting themselves home. You’re still soaking wet and shaking. I   
really think you need to take some time to think before you do anything right now.”

Steven looks at them as though they’ve just told him to set himself on fire. “No. We have to go to Pacifidlog.”

“But --”

“You don’t understand,” he hisses, and they can’t exactly argue with that. They don’t understand in the slightest. Though certainly not for lack of trying.

“Of course I don’t understand. You still haven’t explained what the problem is.”

Steven resumes his furious pacing, and Wallace grabs him by the shoulders before he can get back into the cycle. “Okay, that’s it. Steven, I think you should sit down.”

“But…” He tries with little success to push them away. “No, Wallace, you don’t understand, we need to go back to Pacifidlog now, there’s still time if we’re quick but we have to go right now, Wallace please --”

“Steven.” His name comes out as a sigh, and they internally curse themself for losing their patience. “We can’t go to Pacifidlog right now.”

Steven stares at them with wide, wounded eyes, his mouth moving in futile attempts at protest with no real words behind them.

And then, with no warning whatsoever, he pulls them forward.

It’s not even a hug -- it’s a desperate squeeze, a desperate attempt to find comfort in another human. He holds them tightly, burying his head in their shoulder, gasping for air like he can’t breathe. They’re left stunned and confused and for the love of Rayquaza, worried.

“Steven, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

He stays silent for entirely too long, making them even more anxious. When he finally removes his head from their shoulder and wipes his eyes, it does nothing but worry them further. It was hard to tell when they couldn’t see his face, since his entire body is soaking wet, but the redness in his eyes confirms it.

Steven does not cry. It simply does not happen. Steven yells and paces and snaps at Wallace to leave him alone. Steven locks himself up in his room and comes out sheepishly a few hours later to apologise for yelling and ask for help disinfecting wounds. Steven puts up a darn good fight, both against his own emotions and against Wallace’s help, and only allows himself to break down in tears when all of his attempts at fighting back have failed.

And the thing is, they hate it. They hate that he so willingly shuts himself off from everyone and everything when he needs Wallace most. They hate that they can’t always help him in his time of need. 

But when he’s finally letting them in and accepting their help, it’s even more worrying.

So you can’t blame them for being a little underwhelmed when Steven wipes his eyes once more, and mumbles, “I lost my Mega Stickpin.”

They consciously bite back a snark, because this may seem silly and inconsequential to them but it’s obviously of great consequence to Steven or he wouldn’t be crying over it, and say, “We can get you another Key Stone.”

He stubbornly shakes his head. “It won’t be my Key Stone.”

“Well…” This, clearly, is going to be difficult. “When did you last have it?”

He closes his eyes for a moment, evidently struggling to remember it. “I knew I had it when we first went to Pacifidlog,” he answers, voice shaking. “I think I lost it when I…”

The words “nearly drowned” hang in the air, unsaid, avoided with fear so unlike the way the fact was so carelessly mentioned just a few minutes ago. Steven just as quickly pushes this under the rug. “If we get to Pacifidlog fast enough, we might be able to find it!”

“Steven…” Arceus, they hate having to be the one giving the reality checks. It always breaks their heart to have to cut his hope short. “You lost it in the ocean during a storm and it’s a small piece of metal. There’s no way we’re going to find it.”

“...” 

And then the tears start again.

“Steven…” They run a hand through his hair affectionately. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he protests weakly, sobbing into their shoulder once more. “I need it.”

They have a feeling he’s referring to more than just needing to use Mega Evolution.

“It’s okay.”

They want to say so much more -- that it’s just a stone and some metal, that he does not need it, that he can just get another one -- but they hold their tongue. Steven is known for being a bit overly attached to his rock collection. It’s probably of great importance to him.

Come to think of it … maybe he’s been a bit too overly attached to that Mega Stickpin. It’s always on his jacket or in his hand, or on the nightstand next to him while he’s sleeping. He never lets anybody else touch it except Wallace, and only when he absolutely needs to. And now he’s absolutely devastated by the loss of it. Is this even healthy?

“Maybe you’d feel better if you weren’t so wet,” they suggest uncertainly. “You should go home and change.” 

“...”

“Steven, I know you’re upset but you need to take care of yourself.”

“...Fine,” he mumbles, like a teenager forced to sit through math class. “I’ll meet you back here.”

“I’ll be waiting here for you.”

He climbs atop his trusty Skarmory and shoves a window open. He’s out of sight before the two can exchange any more words.

***

They check the time on their PokeNav Plus and frown. There’s no way it’s taking him this long to get changed.

They jump to the worst possible conclusion, and then berate themself for it. There’s any number of things that could be happening. He could have decided to take a shower first, he could be trying to calm himself down before he returns, he could just have the executive functioning skills of a drowning Tailow…

Or maybe he had no intentions of coming back in the first place.

Unlikely, since it was him that suggested meeting back up with them, but … maybe he changed his mind? Maybe he’s desperately going back to Pacifidlog to search. Maybe he’s decided that   
Wallace is wrong and he can, in fact, find a small piece of metal in the ocean. 

...Without a Water-type Pokemon?

Unlikely. He’s probably just trying to calm himself down before returning. They consider calling him, but decide against it; he hates ‘Nav calls, meaning he might just panic and ignore it, and the device could have been water damaged anyway. Instead, they opt to clean up the Gym while they wait.

They’re halfway through polishing a glass sculpture of Rayquaza when the front door swings open. Steven has a fresh change of clothes, though his hair is still damp, and he’s able to walk inside without turning to pacing and hyperventilating. That’s a good sign.

“...Sorry,” he mumbles quietly.

“For?”

“I don’t know … Making a scene.”

“...I mean, nobody except me saw, so …”

“Ugh.” He stands in the door awkwardly. “I have to go. My PokeNav Plus was broken when I fell into the water, I have to go get another one.” He seems noticeably less distressed about this. It’s quite a contrast compared to his complete panic over the stickpin. “And you’d better get back to celebrating.”

As much as they hate to admit it, he has a point; his Sootopolitan friends are probably growing concerned by now. “Do you want to stay at my house tonight?”

Steven’s cheeks grow scarlet. “Yeah, if that’s okay.”

“Would I be inviting you if it wasn’t okay?” They sigh. “I’ll meet you there at six, okay? I’ll make dinner.”

“...Okay, I’ll see you then.” At no point does he begin to ramble at great length about geology.

That’s how they can tell there’s still something wrong.

The rest of the celebrations aren’t as fun. They spend most of it browsing through random articles on their PokeNav Plus.

They can’t wait until six.

***

It’s closer to six-thirty when Steven finally knocks on their front door, which is probably just making Wallace more concerned, because Steven is never late. He takes all instructions a tad too literally and always assumes that he’s expected to arrive at exactly the stated time, not a minute before or later. But by the time he even arrives, dinner is nearly finished.

“Sorry I’m late,” he mutters sheepishly. “I…” What is he supposed to say? ‘Sorry, I didn’t want to come’. Not exactly a good excuse. “...I was upset.”

Wallace gives him a concerned look as they close the door behind him, but they have to disappear into the kitchen to finish cooking before they can say anything. Steven takes a seat at the table silently, his hands instinctively making their way up to his jacket -- but there’s no smooth stone and shiny metal, no comforting stickpin. He could have gotten another Key Stone at Devon, and he probably should have, but … No. Not yet.

After a few minutes, Wallace returns, with two plates of food. It’s some obscure Kalosian thing he can’t quite recall the name of, and they’ve made it so perfectly, just how he likes it. But he can’t bring himself to do much more than shove it around with his fork.

“Steven…” they mutter. They’re concerned, he knows they’re concerned, but he’s not quite sure how to alleviate their worry.

“I’ll be okay,” he assures them, hoping they won’t notice that he’s speaking only of his future emotional state and nothing of how he feels right now. “I just … need some time.” 

Wallace frowns. “Are you still upset about the stickpin?”

“Mm-hmm.” He forces himself to eat a mouthful of the food. “It was really important to me.”

“I can tell that,” says Wallace, still frowning. “You were really upset.” There’s a tinge of what sounds like disappointment in their voice. Are they angry at him for being upset?

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” They sigh. “I was worried about you.”

“I’ll be okay,” he says again. “Like I said, I just need some time for …” He hesitates to say the word. Overdramatic? Yes, definitely. But is it true? “...Mourning.”

He stares at the plate of food, nudging it with his fork, and refuses to look up. Refuses to see the look in their eyes, because they’ll be upset, they’ll be annoyed that he overreacted, they’re about to say that he doesn’t need to mourn a stickpin…

“Understandable,” they say, and Steven nearly does a double take.

He stares up at them in confusion, and they elaborate. “I mean, it was of great importance to you. I can see why you’re upset.”

“...You can?”

“Mm-hmm.” 

Steven raises an eyebrow -- this is such a contrast to their barely-concealed confusion earlier today that he can’t help but be suspicious -- but says nothing. He eats another mouthful.

“...Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He forces another few mouthfuls, but he barely eats. How can he, when all he can feel is emptiness?

He tries to believe the words he said to Wallace. That he just needs some time. That he’ll be okay.

He’ll be okay soon. He’ll be okay soon. He’ll be okay soon.

If he keeps focusing on that, he won’t have to focus on the fact that he’s not okay now.

***

There are three knocks on the door.

“Come in,” he calls hastily, straightening up and suddenly feeling very vulnerable at his unprofessional appearance. His desk is always a mess, but it’s worse than usual lately.

Luckily, the person that enters isn’t a challenger -- and Phoebe certainly isn’t going to chide him for being unprofessional, not when he’s her superior. “Hi, Phoebe.”

“Hey, Steven,” she says brightly. “Just wanted to see how you’re doing?”

His heart skips a beat, but he says, “I’m fine, how are you?”

“I’m good.” She fidgets with the fabric of her skirt. “Just wanted to check since you’ve been kinda keeping to yourself since … y’know, everything with Kyogre.”

“I … don’t think any of us truly came out of that ordeal unscarred,” he answers, shuddering slightly. On instinct his hands find their way to his jacket, but the stickpin provides none of its usual comfort. It’s custom-made to be exactly like the old one, and yet somehow different, with none of the memories attached. It feels like a hollow replacement.

“Yeah, good point. But still, you gotta -- hey, what’s that?”

His cheeks burn as she turns to look at something behind him, on the pile of mess that he calls his desk. As much as he’d like to kid himself, there’s only one thing on that monstrous pile that’s new enough to surprise Phoebe.

“...It’s a toy.”

He suddenly feels defensive of his property, and he picks it up off the desk. It’s a large plush, perhaps a little inconveniently so, crafted perfectly to look like a Metagross. The fabric is dyed in gold and silver to match the Pokemon’s shiny colouring, with an embroidered face.

“Yeah, I can see that,” she laughs. 

“Then why did you ask?”

“...Good point. Seriously, though, you don’t seem like the type to bring plushies to work.”

“I suppose not.” He hesitates. “It was a gift.”

Her eyes light up. “From Walls?” she asks in a teasing tone, as though he wasn’t blushing enough.

“Yes, if you must know…” He sighs. “My … comfort object was destroyed in the storm. So … they got me this.”

“To replace it.”

Steven frowns. The idea of replacing his Mega Stickpin bothered him from the start. Even the one attached to his jacket right now is there only as a necessity, and he’d rather not have it, honestly. It falls into the uncanny valley with its familiar appearance and unfamiliar memories.

But … is this Metagross really any different? It provides the same sense of comfort, after all. The only difference is that it’s a little more inconvenient to carry around.

And a little less likely to fall away from him, unnoticed, in a time of chaos.

“...Yeah. To replace it.” He puts it back on the desk, suddenly less nervous about what his coworkers will think of such a thing. 

It’s a pretty good replacement.


End file.
